


i choose to hold you

by softangelicbean



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emily Prentiss is a fucking lesbian, Insomnia, M/M, Other, but thanks for being here, hotchner is protective, i’m not sure where this is going, mental health, spencer’s autism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softangelicbean/pseuds/softangelicbean
Summary: spencer’s ability to rest has become dangerously impaired, & when it starts to affect his work at the bau, the team notices. with the trauma and exhaustion being a behavioral analyst can sometimes ensue, spencer might need someone to hold him through the chaos.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 10
Kudos: 168





	1. sugar we’re going down

**Author's Note:**

> “i need not pause to explain that crime is not a disease. it is criminology that is a disease” -g.k. chesterton

Spencer filled his coffee mug about 1/4 of the way, filling the rest with cinnamon flavored creamer and plopping spoonfuls of sweetener into his concoction until it practically smelled sweet enough. 

This was his morning ritual; clock in his time card at the B.A.U, put his bag in his locker, and head straight to the break room that was hardly ever used to make his creamer and coffee. 

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” Prentiss had remarked when she first started at the B.A.U about a year ago. 

“He’s still a kid, look at him. Skin and bones running off of a sugar high until the case is over and then he comes in and does it all over again. He can kick on that stuff for at least four more years,” Morgan had teased. 

In reality, Spencer only tolerated the drink because it was the one thing that kept him awake at work. His autism had affected his sleeping schedule since he was a child, but for the past couple of months it had become a staple in his routine. Between the travel, exhaustion, & sheer trauma that work could sometimes ensue, getting rest hadn’t been so easy recently. Sleep never came, but mornings always came, without fail. It was a never ending spin cycle for him, always tired, always wanting sleep, never being able to sleep. 

After looking over a couple of maps Garcia had delivered to his desk, he took a sip of the cinnamon liquid and shook his head so that his curls flew back and forth.  
After the first sip, it was always a good jolt to his system that got him moving and his brain pumping at a more natural speed. 

Which, for Spencer, was abnormally faster than anyone else in the B.A.U. 

He was staring at the top of a file casing with a gaze so intense, he didn’t hear Rossi come up behind him, pat him on the shoulder. 

It caused Spencer to jump, bouncing his swivel chair a bit and spinning around to face his superior. 

“Agent Rossi, sir. Good morning,” Spencer blinked a couple of times to process the reality of being at work and needing to be focused. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Reid. You alright?” 

Spencer nods, Rossi motions at his face and his coffee mug. 

“You don’t get enough sleep around here, do you?” 

Before Spencer could answer, Aaron Hotchner strolled into the bullpen, waving his hands at the team and asking them to meet in the briefing room for what was presumably a new case. 

Spencer stood up abruptly, grabbing his notebook, his coffee, and his cardigan. He grinned stiffly at Rossi and nodded, 

“I’m fine, sir, really.” 

Rossi glanced over at Hotchner, mouthing that something was up with Reid, & while Hotchner was preoccupied with the case, he did take a couple of seconds to look at the young doctor. 

His eyes were lidded with fatigue, dark heavy circles drooped under his lashes. His face was pale and sunken in at his cheekbones, ones that usually carried tints of pink in them. Spencer’s shirt, however, was the giveaway for Hotchner.  
Wrinkled and an entire hem left untucked to the right of his belt. 

Something was wrong with Spencer, & after this briefing he would see to it. 

Agent Jareau flew through the door at that moment, her blonde hair in a ponytail and her heels padding against the carpeted floor of the conference room. She pressed the power button to the projector and pointed at a photo of a teenage girl bound and gagged, a mask pulled over her head & multiple stab wounds in her lower abdomen. 

“Cayli Adamson was found last night dead in her home. She was the second death this week in Pasadena, and both victims were white females in their early twenties, both college students on break with black hair.” The blonde agent pressed a button on her remote and the slide changed to what looked to be the exact same body. 

“Eden Halloway was found dead in her studio apartment on the edge of town in the same way two days ago and her boyfriend discovered her when he got off of a night shift at the local medical center.” 

Morgan and Prentiss both leaned in on their chairs, but Spencer stayed focused on the photos littering the projector screen. 

“He has an M.O. We could start by —,” 

Morgan was cut off by the young doctor, who’s eyes never left the screen as he spoke in fast sentences. 

“He’s a visionary serial killer on a bender. Look at Cayli. There are no ligature marks on her arms or neck, the zip ties used to hold her are clear and don’t even seem to be secured tightly at all. She was dead before the physical abuse took place. The mask suggests that the unsub feels remorse for the kill, he can’t bear to look at her as she dies. The stab wounds could be the indicator of a stressor. The unsub could have dealt with a former partner that was unfaithful, carrying a child that wasn’t his. He could have been in a situational miscarriage—,”

“His wife could have been infertile and he’s projecting it onto women that look like her,” Prentiss offers, nodding at Reid. 

Hotch scratched his chin and looked up at Rossi and Reid, the ever present worried look he wore hanging on his face like a permanent mask.

“So the question is how did he kill her.” 

***

On the jet, Spencer usually took time to profile the team and assess how ready they were before they landed but today he just wanted to close his eyes and drift off into a nice quiet nap, but Hotchner was sitting across from him, his eyes glued on the file but still attentive to his surroundings. 

Spencer tried to fiddle with a music player that was on the seat beside him, working hard and doing anything to keep his eyes and mind stimulated. It was getting to the point where his eyes were burning to close, and his head kept tilting back no matter how hard he tried to hold it still. 

“Reid!” 

The lanky agent jolted upright, eyes open wide, pupils suddenly dilated, & hands slapped flat on the table in front of him. 

“Yes sir?” 

Hotch shook his head and leaned forward, examining the circles around Reid’s eyes and for a minute almost looking sympathetic. 

“When we land in Pasadena; Morgan and Prentiss will go to the Adamson’s, Rossi will go to Eden Holloway’s apartment, J.J, I want you to stay at the police department and regulate media with Garcia. Reid, you and I will go to any local medical centers or women’s clinics and look into women who fit our unsub’s fantasy.” 

Reid nodded, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table and everything around him suddenly in high definition. There was no way he would be able to sleep after Hotch had said his name in that tone. 

“Reid, have you been getting enough rest? Agent Rossi mentioned that you’ve been spacing out at the B.A.U. Do you need to see a doctor? If we can help you, you need to let us know.” 

Head shakes. 

“Spencer,” this tone was sharper, more serious. Spencer snapped his eyes to the older agent. 

“Sir, I told Agent Rossi that I was fine.” 

“And you were lying. You drifted into unconsciousness in a matter of seconds right in front of me no less than five minutes ago.” 

Spencer stayed silent, licked his lips before looking out the window of the jet. 

“We’re landing,” was all he said. 

***

The team rode back from Eden Halloway’s funeral in the SUV, somber and sympathetic for the families of the victims.  
Reid had never been so relieved to be heading back to Quantico, to home, to bed. 

The jet ride was stressful, a lot of Reid staying on edge and making sure Rossi and Hotch saw him wide awake for most of the trip. He knew the team would be the last to judge him for his health issues, but somehow that didn’t seem to stop him from wanting anyone to worry. It made him feel needy, attention seeking. And it was the last thing he wanted to be. 

When they landed, Hotch followed off the plane after Spencer and walked briskly to the bullpen once inside, putting files on Morgan’s desk to hand in to Garcia the next day. Spencer watched Hotch migrate to his desk, standing over him until he looked up. 

“Sir?” 

“Would you mind coming to my office, Reid? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Reluctantly, Spencer followed the older agent into his office, letting Hotch shut the door behind him. 

“Spencer, you haven’t been sleeping again. I noticed it the first time, and I didn’t do anything because I didn’t think it was serious. You look sick, Reid. What’s happening? Is it the job? Is it your mom?” 

Spencer shook his head, thinking that if everyone knew about his mentally ill mother he might as well stop keeping her a secret. 

“Hotch, I just can’t sleep. At night, when I’m exhausted, my mind won’t stop. It won’t turn off. I think it’s my Aspergers, but the only thing the doctor will do  
is give me meds.” 

The older agent nods, knowing the last time the doctor had been put on meds he couldn’t function mentally. 

He looked down at Spencer. His body looked frail. He was always lanky to begin with, but Aaron could see the exhaustion steaming off of Reid’s face. His hair was crazier than normal, the curls a little matted in the back. And he looked like he might cry. Like he might break if he didn’t get to sit down soon. 

“Come here,” Aaron breathes, walking the four steps to the couch in his office. Reid follows, his face blank as a slate. 

Once Reid is sitting beside him, Aaron wraps his arm around the agent, causing Spencer to shiver. Aaron tightens his grip,  
making sure to let him know that he’s not going to loosen his grip. 

Reid goes limp in his arms after a few seconds, letting his own arms snake around his boss’ neck and tears begin to fall hard and fast onto Hotch’s suit jacket. 

Aaron positions Reid’s body to fit like a baby’s in his lap, rubbing the boy’s spine and rocking him back and forth until his tears subsided. It was a long hour before the agent could calm himself down, sometimes using Aaron’s shoulder as a punching post for his fist. It was a stim that his boss knew was common for Reid, he had seen him do it to his own thigh before, sometimes to other things like seats or chair arms. 

There were a few moments of quiet after the crying stopped before Aaron could hear soft snores coming from Reid’s slightly parted lips. 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and let himself focus on Reid’s breathing body against his own, using it to fall asleep himself, the young doctor still curled on his lap.


	2. but i’ve got you to keep me warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “if pain is too bad to be executed by everybody, and seen by everybody, is it not because it is too bad?” -nils christie

“Reid, can you pull up a geographical map to triangulate any sort of central location for these shootings?” 

The rest of the team scattered, Prentiss and Hotch being the only two agents staying at the precinct in El Paso with Reid. 

Spencer’s body went through a single tremor as he looked up at his superior. 

“Yes, sir,” 

It was a week later and he still couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep on his boss. Crying like a baby, no less. 

He moved to grab push pins and a marker, visibly cringing as he remembered the absolutely horrifying night. 

It had been on instant replay in his mind all week; that, and what he could possibly say to Hotch to make this situation at least a little less awkward. 

Of course, Hotch would never say anything about it, because it wasn’t like him to do that to his agents. He was kind, wouldn’t embarrass Reid on purpose. 

But Reid knew it was not alright at all. Everything about the interaction had been incredibly unprofessional. Not acceptable in the slightest.

~

Reid blinked his eyes open, pupils darting in different directions to try and pinpoint where he was. Ceiling, lamp, couch cushion, and with a slight twist to the left, Hotch. 

Hotch? 

Spencer stiffens, suddenly hyper aware of the arms hanging limp around his torso, and the small breaths being taken as he watches Hotch sleep what seems to be peacefully above him. 

Without breathing, Reid carefully lifts the older agents arms & tries to roll off of Hotchner’s lap without waking him, succeeding until the very last moment. Reid’s foot lost it’s step and he fell flat on his bum, the thump causing Aaron to open his eyes groggily. 

“Spencer? You okay?” 

The young doctor had bolted out of the older man’s office before anything else could be said, and Aaron was left to rub the sleep from his eyes and run fingers through his hair before sitting at his desk and praying the night of rest helped Reid in some small way. 

~

And now Reid wasn’t sure how to apologize to him for the whole incident. He continued to scan the map, pushing pins into all the shooting sites while referencing police reports, eventually creating a triangle representing the El Paso shooter’s comfort zone. 

Reid could feel Prentiss over his shoulder, analyzing his tactics and referencing the map as she sent Garcia names of previous arms offenders in the area within the past 6 months. 

“Thanks, Reid. Garcia should keep you updated, i’m on the way to meet Morgan at the second shooting sight.”

Reid nods, looking over at Hotch, who was speaking in hushed tones to the lieutenant sheriff. 

After a few moments, he took broad steps over to Reid and began pointing at the map Reid had created, looking at Reid with expressions that did not match his words at all. He was trying to tell Reid something, but the doctor couldn’t stop looking at the bruise on Aaron’s neck, it looked purple and only the very tip of it was peeking out of the agent’s collar. 

“If the sheriff releases it to the press, we have no leverage on this unsub,” Hotch finishes. 

“I’ll tell J.J. Did you hurt yourself?” Reid asks, motioning to Hotchner’s bruise. 

The older agent chuckled. 

“No, I’m fine, thank you Reid.” 

“I also wanted to apologize, Hotch. For last week, I can’t believe how unprofessional I acted,” Spencer mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. 

The eyebrows on Aaron’s face furrowed into a thickly knit line across his forehead.

“Don’t ever apologize for that again,”  
and with an abrupt turn, he made his way to evidence, sending Prentiss off with a final shove and a copy of the map Reid had created. 

***

Reid was fresh out of the shower, slipping flannel pajama bottoms over his boxer shorts and grabbing a white tee shirt before heading to the door of his apartment. He pulled it over his head and opened the door, taking a step back when he recognized the outlining frame of his superior standing in his doorway. 

“Hotch?” 

Reid cleared his throat, opening the door wide. It was a wordless invitation, and the agent stepped over the threshold into Reid’s warm apartment. There was a fire going in his fireplace, a book was being read out loud over a speaker system — Aaron recognized it as War & Peace, and Spencer’s hair was still damp, dripping a little onto his white shirt. 

Reid motioned for Hotchner to give him his coat, helping the older man out of it and setting it on a hook near the door. 

“Is it Haley or Jack? How are they? Has something happened?” Reid asks, looking up into Aaron’s eyes.

He shakes his head, taking in more of his surroundings, of the curiously cozy home of the young doctor. The place was dimly lit, smelled like smoky teakwood & eucalyptus. Books ransacked shelves throughout the apartment, and a tea kettle sat on the stove in the kitchen. It was so startlingly similar to Reid. 

“Haley and Jack are fine, I spoke with them this morning. Jack just started preschool, you know. I went to meet the teacher night about a month ago, he was so excited. Wish I could see him more often,” Hotchner mumbles, trailing his eyes from the room back to Reid’s big brown orbs.

It was funnily silent, and the corners of Reid’s mouth lifted upward the smallest bit. 

“Then why are you here, Hotch?” 

“Have you been sleeping? Are the nights getting longer again? Be honest with me, Spencer,” 

Reid shrugs, his grin dissipating. Nothing was wrong, just his superior and friend worrying about him, again. He was the problem, again. 

“You didn’t have to come all the way to my apartment after a case to make sure I’ve been sleeping, Hotch. You could have called.” 

“But you haven’t been, Spencer. It’s the lack of routine, isn’t it? Your Asperger’s and your job, the two draw a fine line with one another, and you have restless nights. Don’t you?” 

Reid spins around, taking strides to the kitchen to grab the tea kettle from the stove and make two cups.

“It’s not really your concern, Hotch. I’ve been fine on the field, it’s not affecting my work.” 

He hands the cup to the older agent, and they sit on the couch. 

“But it’s affecting you, Spencer. You’ve never been this detached from the team in such a way before. It’s turning you into a different person.” 

Aaron reaches to take the young doctor’s hand, but Spencer slaps it out of the way, pushing Hotchner’s mug backwards in the process, spilling the tea all over him. 

Aaron jumps, Spencer curses, and the mug is set on the coffee table as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Damn it,” Spencer curses again, “i’ll throw it in the wash really quickly, here, give it to me,” 

The shirt and it’s undergarment are wadded into a ball and given to the doctor, who tosses them into his washing machine with awkward nimbleness, his anxiety working it’s way from his hands up toward his chest. 

Sleeping on your boss, spilling tea on your boss, cursing in front of your boss. What could possibly happen next? 

Walking back into the living room, Spencer looks down at Hotchner who’s taken a knitted blanket and pulled it around his shoulders, elbows to knees as he stares at the flames dancing in front of him. 

Having your superior half naked on your couch is an odd enough situation, and when he looks at you with sad eyes, it gets weirder. Spencer’s hands start to clam up, the anxiety is in his shoulders now; it’s going to stream inward, and when it makes its way to his throat; that’s when Spencer’s in trouble. 

Sitting beside his boss, the doctor takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes. 

“I would appreciate it if we didn’t do house visits anymore. I don’t think this was necessary, and —“ 

“Reid, something is wrong! You aren’t sleeping! When was the last time you slept? Was it last week? At the BAU? You’re going to make yourself sick!” 

The raise in his tone, and the severity of his words made Reid’s entire being tremor, that invisible hand creeping closer and closer to his throat. 

“Hotch, please, don’t do this,” Reid croaks, avoiding all eye contact, not noticing the purple bruises littering his superior’s right shoulder blade. 

The fire popped then, and as soon as the sound had come it had faded, but it was all it took to send Reid into overdrive. His breathing was irregular now, short gasps starting to take over his lungs, and his eyes were darting everywhere; at the fire, at the kitchen lights, at the front door, at Hotch. 

Aaron was frantic. He hadn’t realized his words would set Reid on edge, and he certainly didn’t realize they would cause him to have an attack. There was a definitive moment of dread in the pit of his stomach that he would be the cause of Reid’s destruction, and then the dawning realization that he needed to do something. He had to do something. 

Shrugging the blanket off his shoulders, he grabbed the doctor’s wrists and  
wedged his arm under Reid’s thighs, moving Reid into his lap in one swift motion. Reid was lashing back, flailing his arms and legs in rhythm with his gasps, eyes wild and frenzied, his half dry hair flying in all directions. 

Aaron tried to think quickly, wincing when a leg made contact with his cheekbone, smarting the area. 

He tucked Reid’s right arm into his chest, grabbing the left arm and guiding it to hit his shoulder repeatedly. In a slow, rhythmic pattern, he used Reid’s arm to start a stim for the young doctor, hissing as Reid began to stim himself, the pain of his fist on Hotchner’s already bruised skin throbbing. 

Slowly, Reid’s legs started to stop kicking. He dug his feet into the couch cushion and began to cry, sobs racking his body, his breathing still erratical, but his fist like clockwork on Aaron’s shoulder every three seconds. 

After about fifteen minutes, the sobbing had stopped and the stimming was progressing to 5 seconds in between hits, and then 10 seconds, and then 12. 

Aaron looked down at Spencer. He was wiping pools of tears out from under his eyes, and once he realized what had happened, he started up quickly, but the older agent kept his arms locked tightly around the boy. 

“This is what helps you sleep, isn’t it?” 

Reid blinked, furrowing his eyes brows. 

“Hotch, this is not your job, not your problem,” and then he sniffles. 

“But it helps,” Aaron insists. 

Reluctantly, Spencer nods. This was humiliating. It was awful, being held like a baby by your boss. But in an odd, personal way, it was nice. For Reid, it was comforting. He felt safe, and his brain could shut off when Hotch was holding him. But it didn’t feel right when Reid remembered Aaron was his superior. 

“What happened?” Reid’s voice cracks, pointing to the bruise on Aaron’s shoulder. By now it had turned into a deeper red, the edges of the bruise yellowing into nothing. 

“It’s your stim ,” Aaron whispers, his arms still firmly holding Spencer.

“You don’t remember, I know. You methodically fist whatever is nearby, any surface, every three seconds. It helps you stabilize.” 

The horrified look on Reid’s face as he collectively realizes is almost heartbreaking. 

~

“Did you hurt yourself?”

The older agent chuckled. 

“No, I’m fine Reid.”

~

Aaron can feel the doctor’s body tense up under his arms, but he holds him still until Reid can’t move anymore. 

“Aaron, let me go! I hurt you, why won’t you let me go,” he babbles emphatically, soft tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Because it’s not your fault,” Aaron soothes, his fingers beginning to move back and forth, the pad of his thumb rubbing small circles on the front of Spencer’s bicep. 

“It’s not your fault that you can’t sleep, it’s not your fault that your stim is what it is. I chose to be here, I choose to hold you. It’s my choice, Spencer. I want to help you, I want you to sleep well, I want you to sleep in my arms. If this is what it takes for you to get better, then so be it.” 

The soothing words and the validation, the small circles being rubbed onto his body, the warmth of Aaron’s arms wrapped around him, the smell of his skin, everything blending together made Spencer suddenly drowsy.

“You don’t want to stay with me,” Spencer mumbles, his eyelids growing heavy. 

“I do. I’ll stay here all night,” Aaron retorts, trying to not smile as the sleep took over his agent. 

“You promise?” Reid whispers. 

“Promise,” Hotch replies, pulling the blanket over the both of them, watching the fire die out as Reid dozed off peacefully in his arms for the second time that month.


	3. soft place to land & a good feeling knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “a restless mind makes a ruffled pillow” -charlotte bronte

Spencer woke up to a phone buzzing. It wasn’t his ringer, and it sounded buried underneath him. After about three buzzes, he could hear a phone flipping open and then a throat being cleared. 

“Hotchner,” the voice breathes quietly. 

Spencer opened his eyes fully, looking up at his boss talk softly into the telephone with his eyes closed. 

“I’ll be there in two hours,” he agrees, shutting the phone and looking down at the groggy doctor beneath him. 

“You have to go in two hours? You haven’t even gotten any good rest,” Spencer argues, feeling remorseful. It was his doing. 

“I did too. I slept the entire time you slept.” 

Aaron pushed hair away from Reid’s eyes, causing Reid to blush and roll off of his superior. 

“I’m not having an episode, Hotch. You don’t have to treat me like that.” 

Spencer cleared his throat and licked his lips, looking toward the kitchen and eyeing a bag of bagels he had bought the day before. 

“Like what?” Aaron asks innocently.

“Like I’m a china doll. Like you’re my mom and i’m the kid who just threw up down the hall in the middle of the night. I’m fine now, you don’t have to baby me.” 

Reid moved to take the older man’s clothes out of his dryer and handed them to Hotch, who quickly got dressed and grabbed his coat, taking a bagel that Reid offered him for the drive to the BAU. 

“I’ll see you in about an hour?” Hotch questions, his voice back to that deep, business like tone. 

“Yes. And Hotch?” 

The older agent turned around to face the doctor. 

“Thanks.” 

***

“So he’s a sexual sadist,” Prentiss concludes, snapping the file shut and looking out the jet’s window in disgust. 

“Well, technically, it could be a she,” Reid argues. 

“There were signs of small struggle, the ligature marks on the victim’s neck are shallow and haven’t bruised as severely as they would have if strangulation had been the cause of death. Sex toys, including a dildo, were found on the scene, and once Garcia gets the lab reports back, I’m willing to bet there is a good 83% chance we’ll find traces of barbiturates, or maybe ketamine, any other sort of date rape drug,” Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose, studying the photos once more. 

“So if it is a woman, she’s not built for this sort of sadistic torture, she’s impotent in size and needs help sedating these men before she tortures and murders them,” Morgan finishes. 

Rossi leans into the table, studying the photos with Reid once more. 

“In any case, both victims were textbook alpha males. If a woman is our unsub, we could have a novel’s worth of stressors with this sort of victim.” 

Hotch nods, grunting in agreement. 

The grunt startled Spencer, making him tense up and his hands freeze on the photos. 

“What’s up, kid genius? You good?” Morgan asks, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“F-fine, we almost there?” 

“Ten til landing,” Morgan replies, not catching the small look between Hotchner and Reid, Aaron’s eyes worriedly locking in on the doctor, wondering how their professional relationship would ever be the same after the vulnerability Spencer had shown him. 

It felt like a sickening deal, Spencer crying and convulsing in his lap while Aaron held the boy and stood in as a resident punching dummy. 

But it had started to invade Aaron’s thoughts. When he wasn’t watching his mind trail, he ended up on Reid’s couch in the back of his head, the young man cradled in his arms and the scent of his rosemary and mint shampoo tickling Aaron’s nose while both of them drifted off into sleep. 

Meanwhile, it was on instant replay in Spencer’s head as well. What did it look like for him and Hotch now that they knew what needed to be done for Spencer’s own health? 

How was he supposed to tell his doctor that he was sleeping regularly without pentobarbital, without melatonin, but his working drug of choice was human touch? 

How was he supposed to tell his mother?

Diana Reid would probably smile at him and tell him he was being silly and that he didn’t need drugs at all, a bright boy like him, he could come up with a solution to his insomnia by himself. He had three PhD’s, of course he could. Don’t limit yourself, Spencer. You were born for greatness. 

He sighed into the case file as they landed, hoping this day ended sooner rather than later. 

***

“SSA Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer Reid,” J.J. introduced. 

The wife of Clayton James looked wide eyed at the team, not sure if she could even process the questions they needed to ask. 

“Thank you all for coming. I don’t know what to say. I know it looks like Clay was unfaithful, but I can’t believe that he was. He loved me, you know?” 

Her voice broke and Prentiss rubbed her shoulder, asking her to sit down. 

“Mrs. James, where exactly was Clayton the night of his disappearance?” 

Mrs. James looked at Hotch and answered, “at his work Christmas party. It’s usually for spouses too, but I wasn’t feeling very good that morning and wanted to rest so I told him to go by himself this year.”

Hotch looked at Morgan, who left the room to call Garcia. 

“Did Clayton have anyone at work who might have had a grudge against him? Maybe they were fighting for the same promotion, or had an altercation, never saw eye to eye on anything?” 

The wife shook her head. “Not that I can think of.” 

“It could have been a male or female, anyone Mr. James ever complained about?” Rossi fished, looking for at least a name to send to the technical analyst.

“Well, he did mention a few times that Amelia was bugging him, nagging him all the time for things he couldn’t control. He said he knew he did his work better than she did. That’s all I can think of.” 

“Do you know her last name?” Reid asks.

“Yeah, Dean. Amelia Dean.”

Reid flips his phone open and dials, putting the tech analyst on speaker. 

“Yes, boy wonder? What can your queen do for you?”

“Hey Garcia,” Reid starts, unflustered, “can you cross reference an Amelia Dean with the firm that Clayton James worked at? Get me anything you can on her, credit cards, bills, addresses, phone calls.”

“Okie doke, Reid. I’ll let you know what I know when I know.” 

***

Reid could feel Morgan’s eyes on him as they headed back to the hotel. It felt like he was on watch, and maybe he knew that the team knew that something was wrong. 

Prentiss had asked him earlier at the James’ residence if he was doing better, which, what the fuck did that mean? 

He hadn’t told anyone except Aaron about his trouble sleeping, and ever since Aaron started holding him throughout the week, he had been resting more than ever. 

This put Spencer on edge, made him a little angry. Had Hotch been telling the team about what he and Spencer had been doing? Was it at his expense? Did they laugh about him when he isn’t around? 

These were questions stemming from his already fried brain as he walked over the threshold of the hotel doors and into the lobby, Hotchner brushing past the team to check them in. 

At this point, the anxiety bubbling up inside of Spencer is almost tangible and he tries to focus on one thing that will help him calm down. He looks at J.J., who’s on the phone with Will. He wouldn’t want to bother her. 

He looks at Morgan, who’s flirting uselessly with Prentiss, who’s rolling her eyes and grinning at the attractive agent. 

His eyes skip over Rossi and they settle on Hotch, his brain suddenly pooling into haziness. 

Aaron was soothing. The thought of his arms around Spencer, his head resting on the back of Spencer’s couch, the smell of his body wash. Everything about his boss made Spencer the perfect picture of peace. 

“Pretty boy kicks in his sleep,” Derek groans, making Prentiss laugh. 

Hotch smiles faintly, looking at the young doctor. 

“If it’s a problem we can switch,” he offers, looking back at Derek. 

“No, I can handle him for one night I guess. Let’s go, Reid.” 

Spencer’s gut twisted a little bit. He hadn’t had to share his sleeping space with anyone but Hotch in the past two weeks, and he didn’t know if his brain could handle unfamiliar scents, touches, or places for that matter.

He follows Morgan reluctantly, making sure to count his steps and monitor his breathing on the elevator. The last thing he wants is to have a panic attack in the hotel. 

Spencer showers after Morgan, climbing into the bed and turning onto his side, praying that sleep will come. 

***

It didn’t, and the morning sunlight was harsh on Reid’s eyes as it rose. 

He waited an hour or two before starting to get ready for the flight back to Quantico. He got dressed, brushed his hair and teeth. Made sure he looked nice. 

The team regrouped in the lobby, taking a cab to the jet & settling in so that take off could ensue sooner rather than later. 

It was then that Reid’s body allowed him to doze off, the rest of the team not noticing how exhausted he had been that morning besides Hotch, who had been worried the entire night before that Reid wouldn’t sleep at all. 

He watched as the young doctor’s eyelids fluttered on occasion, his brain working overtime even while unconscious. 

Ten minutes to landing, Morgan looked over and smiled at Reid, taking his headphones off and setting them on the table. He shook the doctor’s shoulder to wake him up, and much to Aaron’s dismay, Spencer’s eyes opened and rolled, his arm flying straight out in front of him and his yelp loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. 

His breathing immediately started to pick up, gasps replacing breaths, and Morgan’s eyes were wide with confusion. He tried to grab Reid’s wrists and hold them down, causing Reid to start crying, his breathing becoming more erratic. 

Aaron jumped in then, his body suddenly untensing. 

“Let him go,” he says sternly, walking the few feet to Reid. 

“But Hotch, he’s —,” 

“Let. him. go,” the agent orders. 

Aaron pulls the hyperventilating doctor onto the floor and into his lap, grabbing the boy’s arm, starting his stim, and then squeezing his arms around Spencer as tight as he could. He prayed it would calm the man down quickly. 

“It’s okay, Spencer. I’m here. Shhh. Listen baby, I’m right here. Listen to my voice. Follow my breathing. Focus on me. It’s Aaron, I’m here, Spencer.” 

The team watched in shock, this display of care totally new and unexpected for them. When had Hotch become Spencer’s support system? Was this normal? 

By the time Spencer had fallen asleep with tears in his eyes, Hotch had asked the team to leave the jet, and speak of the incident to no one. 

He sat, holding his agent, hoping when he woke up he wouldn’t be as disoriented. 

He gazed at the curls straying themselves across the young doctor’s forehead, at the long lashes coated with tears that lay on the younger man’s face. 

It was then that Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, darting around until he focused on Aaron and then he relaxed again. 

“What happened?” he asks groggily, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You woke up and got startled. It’s okay, I was here.” 

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a bright red. 

“The team saw me have a panic attack?” 

Aaron winced, pushing the curls off the forehead and nodding. 

“They’re never to speak of it to anyone,” he reassures, which doesn’t make Spencer feel better, but at least he wouldn’t be asked questions.

He closes his eyes and tries to remember anything about his episode. He remembers Hotch pulling him to the ground, and he remembers his voice. He can smell his smoky body wash — and he can hear words. 

Spencer grins and reaches up lazily to caress Aaron’s face, making the older man’s eyes go wide. 

“Aaron did you call me baby?” 

It was the unit chiefs turn to blush. He hadn’t thought about it until now, he had only said it out of natural instinct. It was a name that was supposed to calm Spencer. 

“It’s okay that you did. I liked it,” Spencer whispers in his arms. 

The boy genius sat up, still in the lap of his boss. 

He looked at Aaron’s face. It was warm, and comforting. His eyes were kind, and saw Spencer fully. He had bags under his eyes from the stress of his job, but Spencer loved the lines on Aaron’s face. The laugh crinkles by his eyes were Spencer’s favorite. They felt like home, and made Spencer comfortable. 

“What are you looking at?” Aaron asks, his eyes looking back and forth into Reid’s, trying to figure it out himself. 

“I’m looking at you. I might kiss you,” Spencer says softly, his breath hitching in his throat before leaning to close the inches between him and Aaron. 

It was soft and chaste. It felt like a million butterflies playing on his lips. Aaron could feel the smooth skin of Reid’s mouth on his own, his heart pumping at an alarming rate. 

When Reid pulled back, he opened his eyes wide. 

“Hotch, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I apologize—,” 

This time Aaron kissed Reid. Regardless of whether it was the right thing to do or not, he wanted to feel those butterflies again. He wanted to smell Reid’s skin, feel his mouth and taste his tongue. 

He cupped Reid’s face, deepening the kiss. It caused Reid to moan quietly, his eyes closed in complete bliss. 

After it was over, Reid opened his eyes and his mouth formed a small “o.” 

His lips were red from being kissed, and his cheeks were so flushed that Aaron thought he might be experiencing too much body heat.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

The doctor tangled one of his hands in the older man’s hair. 

“Aaron, you just kissed me. I’m more than okay, I feel like i’m floating,” he admits shyly, avoiding eye contact. 

This makes the agent smile softly.

“Will you kiss me sometimes? It calms me down. It helps,” Spencer asks timidly.

Aaron leans his head to the side.

“I can do whatever you need me to. I just want you to rest and to be happy. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” 

Spencer flushes, his body relaxing once again.

“We should probably get off the plane huh,” Spencer sighs. 

The older agent laughed. 

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”


	4. for him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaron thinks ab spencer

Spencer timidly opened the door to Aaron's office and darted inside, closing the door quickly behind him.

“Spencer?”

The doctor shook his head with wide eyes and closed the blinds, making his way to Aaron’s lap and sitting himself comfortably.

There were no words for several minutes. Paperwork was forgotten on the desk, arms were wrapped tightly, and Spencer’s nose stayed buried into the shoulder of his superior for a long time.

“Long night?” Aaron finally whispers into the silence.

There’s a small whimper that comes from the back of Spencer’s throat, and Aaron just tightens his grip.

Spencer didn’t want to talk about how embarrassed he was. He didn’t want to explain to anyone the burning shame that came with his attacks, the insomnia that made him distant and elusive with the team.

He knew they had questions. They were profilers, and _good_ ones.

All Spencer wanted to do was stay here in Aaron’s lap and sleep. Be held. But a full day of work was before him and he needed to get a grip on his body.

He looked up from the lining of Aaron’s suit jacket and saw his boss looking down at him with worry in his eyes.

“I’ll be okay I just needed to rest for a couple of minutes.”

His body was still slumped and relaxed into Aaron. The older agent flexed his arm to help Spencer sit upright, waiting for him to plant his feet and stand before standing with him, turning him so that they were face to face.

“You know we could go to the doctor together, Reid.”

Spencer sighed and shook his head again. He didn’t want to go to the doctor. Even if Aaron was sweet enough to go with him, it’s a trip he knows will be useless.

“Maybe next month,” Aaron shrugs noncommittally. He just wanted Spencer to get help. Anything to help with his anxiety. Spencer knew it hurt him to see the terror that coursed through his body at the slightest unexpected actions.

“Maybe,” Spencer whispers. “I should get back out into the bullpen before I look suspicious,” he suggests, looking up at Aaron with big doe eyes devoid of sleep.

Aaron nods, motioning to the door and opening it for him.

He watches as Spencer strolls through the door and back into the bullpen, his eyes still heavy with wanted sleep and almost crippling exhaustion.

Spencer’s condition was causing Aaron’s mind to wander while working.

He thought about Spencer probably an unhealthy amount, but it wasn’t always his health he thought about.

He thought about it, sure, but there was so much _more_ to Spencer that consumed his mind.

Spencer’s eyes. His brain, his hands. The way his lips felt against Aaron’s. The way he looked when he was asleep. The way his curls fell across his forehead. His sweater vests, the glasses that sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose at times. The way he clutched onto Aaron when he was scared.

Aaron’s thoughts flashed back to the night he watched Reid’s life drain out of him through a computer screen.

He shivered in discomfort, his lungs tightening up.

He hated that night. Spencer had gone through so much trauma. No wonder he never slept, never dared to close his eyes.

Aaron snapped back to reality, looking down at his paperwork. It would keep him here for at least another five hours, well past nightfall.

He wondered if Spencer would stay to keep him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter I managed to crank out something that wasn’t a fluffy kiss. i’m sorry it’s so short i have had writers block for a ducking year it seems like. pls enjoy. i’m working hard to fix this dumpster fire of a plot LOL


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